


The Pleasure to be Found in Soul-Sucking, Joy-Destroying Bastards

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindfolds, Community: daily_deviant, Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius was going to have fun. This was not going to be another in the long, boring chain of nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pleasure to be Found in Soul-Sucking, Joy-Destroying Bastards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [r_grayjoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_grayjoy/gifts).



> Written for r_grayjoy for Daily Deviant's Kinky Kristmas 2009.
> 
>  **Beta:** eeyore9990

The front door to Grimmauld Place thumped closed behind the last few members of the Order, cutting off Moody's and McGonagall's bickering at the same time it released a new tirade out of Sirius's mother. In the back of the house, however, her yells were barely audible, which was why they held Order meetings in the kitchen or the back parlour and why Sirius spent most of his time there.

As he walked through the parlour door, Sirius flicked his wand over his shoulder and muttered the Curtain-Closing Charm he'd discovered when searching for wanking material in the library one day. He smiled as his mother's voice was abruptly cut off and went to sit in a chair close to the fire.

Snape was still there, stirring the cauldron of Veritaserum that had taken up the sideboard for the previous two weeks—and given Kreacher something else to complain about. He was about ready to cut the vicious little elf's head off and mount it with the rest—since he wasn't allowed to clothe the bugger.

At the very least, it would be something different. He was damn tired of the same old same-old. Not quite enough to miss Azkaban, but there were days when he remembered the Dementors' visits with fondness. At least they'd broken up the monotony.

Speaking of soul-sucking, joy-destroying bastards, Sirius thought, as Snape banged the lid down on the cauldron...

When Snape turned around, Sirius said, "Well, _Snivellus_ , it's just you, me, and the old hag. Even my mother's useless, sneaking elf has abandoned his post and taken himself off to who-the-fuck-knows where."

"I'll be out of here soon enough," Snape drawled. "Some of us have actual work to do."

Tamping down the flare of frustration and anger, Sirius didn't try to stop himself from lashing back with, "Work? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Snape snorted and went back to cleaning and packing away his equipment. When the stirring rod was fitted into his leather pouch and there was nothing left for Snape to do except leave, Sirius had reached the bitter conclusion that anything and anyone—even Snape—was better than being alone.

He said the first thing that came to mind. "You could at least be honest. Call it toadying or skulking or even student abuse."

"Honest?" Snape spun around and glared at Sirius. "You wouldn't recognise honest if it came up and bit you in the arse."

"Oh!" Sirius flattened a hand over his heart and slumped back in his chair. "You've cut me to the very quick, you have."

"I'd rather cut you somewhere that would do a trifle more damage."

For the first time in longer than he could remember, something almost like pleasure raced through Sirius's veins. When Snape started to leave the room, Sirius sat up, dropping his feet to the floor with a thud, almost smiling when the sound caused Snape to stop in his tracks. He'd missed the fuck out of that feeling, and he wanted more.

"Leaving so soon, Snape? It can't be because you have someone waiting for you. Your existence is almost as miserable as mine."

"My existence," Snape hissed, "is none of your concern."

Sirius smiled. "Like I said. Almost as miserable as mine, and _you_ didn't even have to go to Azkaban to earn it."

This time Snape grabbed at the doorpost and spun around. "At least my existence serves a purpose. I am not merely lounging around my ancestral home, drinking and..." Snape frowned. "Do you do anything else?"

"Can't be arsed, can I?" Sirius twisted around, sprawling in the chair and hooking one leg over the arm. "So much to drink, so little time."

"Useless."

"If you insist," Sirius agreed. He put his hands behind his head and stretched, barely able to hide a grin when Snape's eyes followed the rise of the too-short shirt that Sirius had grabbed from Regulus's wardrobe. He seemed almost disappointed that Sirius hadn't bared any skin, so Sirius added, "Unless you can think of a way to put me to use?"

"That depends." A fierce light gleamed in the depths of Snape's eyes as he stalked over to stand in front of Sirius. "Do you have _any_ useful skills?"

"Depends upon how you define _useful_ , doesn't it." Stretching again, Sirius pretended to think. "I can think of a number of things I do very well."

"Indeed?" The quirk of Severus's eyebrow expressed his disbelief.

"Indeed."

They stared at each other. Sirius slid his hips just a little more down in his seat, enjoying the burn in his thigh muscles and the way Snape's mask-like expression flickered. Oh, he was going to have fun. This was not going to be another in the long, boring chain of nights.

When the silence had lasted long enough, Sirius unhooked his leg and got to his feet. Snape was so close that Sirius could feel the warm gusts of his smokebrandy-laced breath against his cheek. "I'm extremely talented at some things."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget?" Snape drawled. "The next time I need a pedigreed mutt, I'll be sure to Floo you."

Sirius growled. And then smirked when Snape twitched. "That's not my only talent. Far from it."

Crossing his arms over his chest, resting his weight on one foot and cocking his hip, Snape said, "I've seen absolutely nothing, in all the decades I've known and despised you, which inclines me to believe that claim."

Which, Sirius thought, was a bloody long-winded, very Snape-ish way of saying _Prove it_ , and one of Sirius's favourite dares. He took a moment to consider his next move. The room was overstuffed with furniture and ugly bric-a-brac, too cold by the windows and too hot by the fire. It wouldn't have been his first choice of a place to display his favourite tricks. Then again, Snape wasn't exactly first, second, or even one-hundredth on his list of wizards he wanted to impress.

"Well?" Snape demanded.

Keeping his expression insolent, Sirius took a step back and ran his gaze over Severus - from head to toe and back again. He stretched again, ran his fingers through his hair, and sucked in his stomach, allowing his loosely tied trousers to slip a little further down. Then he moved.

Sirius walked slowly, rolling his hips as he paced, and he hummed. An odd tune, one that Regulus had played incessantly when he was learning the piano. As he circled Snape, Snape turned, never allowing Sirius to get behind him.

"You'll get dizzy if you keep that up," Sirius mused after completing a second circuit.

"Then desist."

"Oh, I think not." Sirius reached out and flicked the top-most button of Snape's robes. The button jumped off and fell to the floor. Snape's robes sagged open and exposed the notch at the base of his neck.

"Black," Snape snarled.

"That would be my name," Sirius agreed, sliding a hand down Snape's left bicep, unaccountably pleased when the muscle beneath the cloth tensed. "Mmm... look what you're hiding under that funeral garb."

Snape jerked sideways, away from Sirius, only to stumble against him because Sirius hadn't stopped moving. Sirius reached out automatically and righted him. A thrill ran through him at the touch. _It's Snivellus_ , he told himself, but his body didn't give a damn. His traitorous cock filled and hardened and reminded him that it had been far too long since anyone else had touched it.

Resolved, Sirius stroked Snape's arse before pausing in front of him. "You want me," he said.

"In your dreams."

Nightmares more like, Sirius thought. But the thought was automatic, and he couldn't persuade himself that he meant it. There was something here, something between them.

"You want me," Sirius repeated, and flicked away the next three buttons. "You want to be touched by someone who knows you." He slipped the pouch off Snape's shoulder and placed it carefully on a table.

"You don't know me." Snape growled the denial, an undecipherable emotion flashing in his eyes, but made no attempt to leave.

"Don't I?" Sirius mused, making another circuit around Snape. "I probably know you better than just anyone else alive."

"You flatter yourself, mutt."

"Would you rather I flattered you?" The words, when they realised just what Sirius had said, silenced them both. They stared at each other. Sirius could see Snape's mind working, and he really didn't want to hear whatever Snape had to say. So, he grabbed the front of Snape's robes and yanked.

The sound of ripping cloth echoed briefly in the room. Visibly shocked, Snape didn't do anything, say anything for a few seconds, and then he smirked.

Sirius clutched the fragment of black cloth in his hands. The fabric was warm, making him aware of how cold his hands and his bare feet were. He stared down at it and then at Snape's chest, which was covered by a collarless white shirt. A white shirt made of a fabric that was so fine Sirius could see a darker patch—of hair?—in the centre of Snape's chest.

A whisper dragged Sirius's attention away just in time to see the twirl of Snape's wand. And then the black cloth twisted itself out of Sirius's hands slithered up his arm and shoulder to slide into place over Sirius's eyes.

"Hey!" Sirius yelled. He reached up and tugged at the makeshift blindfold. It didn't move. He twisted and pulled, feeling more frantic with each moment, but the fucking thing would not budge.

"Calm yourself, Black."

Sirius tried to hit Snape, but the slithering bastard had moved. He stepped forwards, flinging his arms around. And bashed into one of the damn tables, sending table and ornaments and lamp crashing to the ground.

"Don't move." Snape's voice came from right next to Sirius's ear. A couple of charms repaired whatever Sirius had shattered and then, if Sirius was guessing correctly, righted the table. "Two steps back," Snape said. "Then one to your left."

Still holding on to the cloth, Sirius did as Snape had bid him. Part of his brain was screaming at him not to trust Snivellus, but the other part, the one attached to his prick, was willing to follow that voice anywhere.

"Heel," Snape purred, his tone at odds with the insult in his words.

Sirius gathered himself to object, to order him to remove the fucking blindfold, when Snape touched him, cupped Sirius through his trousers, and said, "Well, well, well."

With each _well_ , Sirius's prick twitched and hardened.

"Better than I'd expected, Black." Snape squeezed lightly. "Almost impressive."

"Damn fucking impressive," Sirius said and rotated his hips.

"Is it now?" A slide of Snape's hand down Sirius's chest sent every single one of his shirt buttons pinging away to scatter across the wooden floor. Then his shirt was snapped down. A shiver ran down Sirius's spine as the cold air hit his skin.

"Are you cold, Black? Do you need to... _warm_ up?"

But then the touch disappeared, and Sirius was left standing there, once again alone in a darkness that was too intense, too terrifyingly familiar. He clawed at the blindfold, catching at his skin with his ragged nails.

"Hush." Snape clasped Sirius's hands, his touch pushing back the darkness.

"Don't do this," Sirius said, and was proud of himself for not begging, for not clutching at Snape's hands. "I can't, all right. You win, if that's what you want to hear. Because I fucking _Can't... Do... This_." He wrenched his hands free and tried again to remove the blindfold.

"You can, and you will."

To Sirius's relief, Snape didn't add a snide comment. He simply began to run his hands over Sirius. And to talk. In that voice.

"Yes," Snape hissed, as he pressed his palm over Sirius's prick. "Get hard again for me. Just like that."

Thrusting into Snape's hand, Sirius adjusted his stance to accommodate the hand that followed the line of his trouser placket between his legs and pushed upwards.

"How long has it been, Black? Since someone touched you in a way that didn't ooze sympathy or pity? Since someone wanted you bared before them?"

"Not as long as you'd think," Sirius lied automatically, shoving his shame down into the depths with his loneliness.

"If you insist," Snape said, and spoke a word that caused the buttons on Sirius's trousers to fall away, proving that Sirius still didn't wear pants underneath. "So very hard," Snape added, as his fingers curled around Sirius's cock. "So very, very hard, and I'm going to keep it all for myself."

There was movement without enough sound for explanation. A whoosh of cloth, a rasp. A seemingly wordless series of murmurs that somehow had Sirius's trousers shoved down.

"What do you want, Black?" Snape's chest pressed into Sirius's back. "Do you want nothing more than a hand job?" Snape took his hand away, and then, before Sirius could complain, Snape's other hand, slippery with lube, slid up and down his prick and twisted.

"Hand job would do," Sirius muttered, pushing into Snape's grip.

"Settling for so little? Is that why the Hat put you in Gryffindor?"

A slight pressure on his piss-slit had Sirius leaning back, widening his legs again. "Nah. I just have low expectations of Slytherins."

"I see." Snape flattened his hand, and Sirius's hips were caught between Snape's pressure on his prick and Snape's own long, thick, erect prick between his arse cheeks.

"The fuck," Sirius blurted out, surprised by the size of Snape's prick. If he'd known Snape was that well hung, he might have pulled on more than his pride over the years.

Snape breathed across Sirius's ear, licked the cartilage, and asked, "You want to be fucked?"

The goosebumps and the way that Snape ground into Sirius sent a wave of arousal through him. "I want you to do—" He wriggled, reached back and clasped Snape's hips, splaying his fingers over Snape's arse "—something."

"Down," Snape said. "On your hands and knees. Show me how much you want this."

For a moment after Sirius brought his hands forward, he considered simply dropping. But there was the palm covering him, and the hardness of the wood, and the indeterminate distance between where he was and the floor. "How far?" he finally asked.

There was a pause before Snape released him and said hoarsely, "Only to your knees."

This time Snape kept talking; he didn't leave Sirius alone in the dark. "That's right. Kneel."

Sirius turned it into a dance. Weaving slowly, he moved to the cadence of Snape's voice—to his knees first, a bit awkwardly until he got his trousers down far enough, and then sliding his hands forwards.

"Legs spread. I want to see your bollocks."

When he was in position, Sirius raised his head. He waited for the inevitable canine joke but, to his shock, Snape let it go.

Instead, Snape's thumbs tracked down Sirius's spine, bumping over the knobs. "Rock," he said. "I want to see you move."

Sirius swayed back and forth and caught his breath as his erect prick bounced and he could _feel_ the weight of his bollocks.

"You don't need preparation, just cleaning."

"No fingering," Sirius agreed. A mild Cleaning Charm swept through him, and need ached in the back of his throat.

"No stretching. Merely my thumb, slicking your hole."

It was nowhere near enough. Sirius didn't think he'd pressed it in even as far as the base of his thumbnail. He pushed backwards onto the thumb and snarled when it pulled out. "Fuck me already."

" _Pulso_ ," Snape murmured. His wand clacked onto the wooden floor.

Gentle, ghostly fingers began to touch Sirius. They tweaked his nipples, stroked his arms and belly, the skin of his inner thighs, the dimples at the base of his spine, his toes. Random, soft touches that left behind sparks of arousal.

Sirius blinked against the blindfold, tried to open his eyes, to anticipate each stroke, until he felt pressure against his arse.

"My prick," Snape said, "in your hole." And he slammed inside.

"Merlin," Sirius swore. Pain fought with pleasure as he was filled.

"You. Won't. Touch. Yourself." Snape punctuated every word with a thrust into Sirius. "You. Will. Feel. This."

The phantom fingers converged on Sirius's prick and bollocks. Slithering, sliding, tightening, poking into his slit, twining around his sac. It was so good, so fucking good; it was almost too much. Sirius dug his fingers into the floor and bit his cheek.

But he couldn't stay silent. Unintelligible sounds forced their way past his lips. Spreading his legs, Sirius twisted his hips, forcing Snape's prick over his prostate again and again, until he had to squeeze his eyes closed so tightly that he was seeing white flashes. This man should not be able to do this to him, to make him beg, to want, to need, and yet... Sirius tried to impale himself even further, encouraging Snape by groaning, "Come on."

"You want me. You want to be fucked by me. Someone who'll give you what you want. Who won't worry about hurting you or taking care of you or keeping you safe. Someone who'll make you _feel_."

Snape snarled the last word and clamped a hand on Sirius's prick. Sirius moaned, lifting his head and arching his back, as the brutal tug wrenched an orgasm out of him.

"Bastard," Sirius gasped and clenched his inner muscles. Elation surged through him when Snape's hips snapped forwards and he grunted his release.

They remained like that for a bit, joined, but just as Sirius was about ready to kick Snape, he pulled out. Bastard really did have a way of spoiling Sirius's fun.

" _Resarcio_."

The blindfold twisted and pulled sharply, pressing into Sirius's eyes before pulling free.

"Ow. Fuck, Snape. Watch my goddamn eyes. I'm even less use to anyone blind." Sirius rolled over onto his back just in time to watch the fragment of cloth flip itself over in mid-air and slide back into place in Snape's robes.

Not bothering to so much as pull up his trousers, he raised himself on his elbows and watched Snape button himself back up, repairing the remaining damage to his robes and restoring the buttons with flicks of his wand.

Then, his pouch over one shoulder, Snape walked to the door where he paused. Looking back at Sirius, his lip curled into an almost-sneer, Snape drawled, "As I said, Black, some of us have work to do."

Sirius was still laughing when the front door thudded closed behind Snape and his mother began screeching.

~fin~


End file.
